


Haunting & Relenting

by God_of_Ghosts



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Chaptered, Corason, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Smut, New Pairing, Pre-Slash, Teen Wolf 5x06, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-12 11:38:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4477895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/God_of_Ghosts/pseuds/God_of_Ghosts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mason feels the first strains of being in the "inner circle:" he'd gotten his first kiss—and on the same night, seen his first kill. With Lucas shadowing his memory, it's easy to get lost in Corey in the present; but secrets threaten to turn Mason's sweet distraction into a toxic addiction, and he finds himself caught between haunting and relenting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ghost Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mason meets Corey; the fall is inevitable.

Mason could still taste the Kiss of Death.

It had been over forty-eight hours since the “Sinema Incident,” as he liked to call it with a face fresh from excitement, eager to know and see more, masking the boy who quivered behind it. It was easier to be eager than to be afraid, after all, and Mason did everything to keep the latter at bay.

It was the next day that made things clear; he could see the decaying shape sometimes in the corners of his eyes, see it rise from the floor beside his bed at night, taste alcohol and candy and see the flash of strobe lights, and it had hit him after the first nightmare what it was. He made a shocking discovery about necrophobia: Noun, extreme or irrational fear of death or dead bodies but—surprisingly— _not his own_. Mason wasn’t afraid of dying; he was afraid of the dead thing known as Lucas, of the boy he kissed, of the boy who tried to kill him, of the body the Dread Doctors left behind.

But it was easier to be eager than afraid, and thus, Mason allowed Liam to tug him down the hall of the crowded hospital, in spite of the flickering lights too similar to Sinema’s, in spite of death’s shadow behind every door.

“Come on, we only have ten minutes,” Liam said, skidding to a stop outside Hall-B as doctors walked by. Mason examined the paper in his hands, covered in Melissa’s handwriting. She’d printed out a list of the patients on this floor who had non-lethal chronic conditions, and she’d scrawled stars next to the names of patients under twenty years of age.

“There are at least seventy names on here, Liam,” Mason said.

“Which means we need to check each of them fast before those doctors come back. Ms. McCall only gave us so much time.” The plan was simple; Lydia and Scott had guessed that the Dread Doctors were targeting teenagers with pre-existing illnesses, so they had to at least try checking the hospital for possible chimera. The sheriff found ten new holes dug up on the lacrosse field, ten _empty_ holes, so either something was supposed to go in them, or ten things have already crawled out.

“Wait,” Mason said. “They all had some sort of condition, I get that. Tracy had parasomnia, Donovan was clearly on your spectrum—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“IED is similar to what he was dealing with. And Lucas…” Mason sucked in a deep breath, remembering the strobe lights and smoke machines, the smell of sweat and cologne, the feeling of lips pressed hard against his and a grip on his hips that had left bruises. Funny how he hadn’t noticed the pain until after.

“Kira thinks Lucas might have had severe anxiety before the Dread Doctors got their hands on him,” said Liam.

“And then there’s Hayden.”

“She’s taking medication for her transplant.” Liam didn’t look at him. “She didn’t say much, but it could be a post-op illness that’s barely treatable.”

“Hey, remember what I said?” Mason grabbed his shoulder. “A girl like Hayden doesn’t want a handout. You want to help her with the money situation? Get her a better job.”

“I guess.” Liam shrugged. “So, we have seventy patients to check out in ten minutes.”

“Nine minutes, now, and maybe less than seventy.” Mason held out the paper. “If the Sheriff found the holes last night, that means whatever was in them had to have crawled out sometime before Monday’s practice, or someone would’ve noticed giant holes in the field and said something.”

“So the chimera would’ve come out any time in the last three days.”

“If there’s a chimera in this hospital, they wouldn’t be anyone who’s been checked before Monday.” Mason pulled a pen out of his pocket and started crossing off names. “That leaves four people on this floor who arrived in that time, only two of whom are under twenty, and only one who’s checked in for suspicious illness.” Mason circled the name. “Corey…”

“Oh boy,” Liam said.

“That name sounds familiar.”

“Yeah, you made out with his boyfriend before we beat the crap out of him and watched him die.” Mason winced, but Liam didn’t catch it.

“Hey, boys!” Melissa McCall jogged over to them, hair in a messy ponytail and a clipboard under one arm. “How are we doing? Did you find anyone?”

“Mason thinks Corey might be a chimera,” Liam said.

“The boy with the bad sting, right?” Melissa glanced behind her, where a doctor was talking to another nurse. “Okay, Dr. Bernhart is his PCP and he has an appointment in five, I can get you guys in.”

“Perfect, thank you Ms. McCall.”

“You can call me Melissa. Wait by room 313.” They split up, Liam in the lead again, and Mason found it a little scary that he knew his way around the hospital so well before remembering his stepdad works here. Liam paused outside 313 and frowned at Mason.

“This is the same room I was in when I sprained my ankle,” he said, looking put-off. “I can’t believe that was just a few months ago.” He crossed his arms and looked Mason up and down. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I can smell your anxiety.”

Mason’s heartbeat picked up. “What are we going to say to him?”

“Corey? I don’t know, but…” Liam shrugged again. “I can guess what Scott would say.”

“What’s that?”

“Save him. Whatever it takes, we need to save this one.”

Their conversation cut short as Melissa rejoined them, her clipboard slightly thicker and a saran-wrapped tray in one hand. “He’s due for his next dose, so he should be awake.” She opened the door and led them in, but Liam strayed behind.

“Are you okay, Ms. Mc—I mean, Melissa?”

“I’m on the last leg of an eleven-hour shift and my son’s asthma has mysteriously returned, so no.” Melissa hung the clipboard on the back of the door and passed the tray to Mason. The room was dark but for a single lamp, but she made no move to turn on the ceiling lights. A boy lay in bed, motionless and silent.

“Corey,” she said in a soft voice, checking his pulse. The boy in the bed stirred and looked at her.

“Hi nurse-lady,” he muttered. Mason smiled, but a quick look from Liam wiped it away.

“Morning sleepy-head,” said Melissa. “You ready for your next dose?”

“Please,” Corey said.

“Alright, I just need you to eat something, first. You know the routine.” She gestured for Mason, who held out the tray with some apprehension. Corey was a mess; his eyes were sunken in, his skin clammy, and his dark hair lay in a limp mess around his head. But there was a spark in his hazel eyes, something vibrant that stirred to life when his gaze fell on Mason.

“Who are they?” Corey asked Melissa.

“You remember my son? The one who asked you those questions yesterday?” Corey nodded. “These are his friends, Liam and Mason.”

“We wanted to ask you a few things,” Liam said.

“Why?” Corey looked to Melissa. “I told him everything I knew.”

“There’s more,” Mason said. He shared a look with Liam and steeled himself. “Do you remember running into any weird-looking dudes with masks this past week?”

“Dudes with masks?”

Melissa cleared her throat. “We believe a couple of pranksters have been running around Beacon Hills throwing stink bombs at folks, but whatever it is they’re using, it’s triggering some nasty allergic reactions.”

“I don’t think I have any allergies.”

“Just in case.” Melissa smiled at him before checking the bandages on his arm.

Corey swallowed hard and looked away from his arm. “Did Scott mention anything about, um, a boy named Lucas?” Melissa looked up from her work and sent a warning glare at the boys.

“Lucas was admitted to ICU yesterday,” Melissa said. “Food poisoning. Are you sure you haven’t seen anyone walking around with masks on?”

“I don’t think so…” But Corey was looking into the distance. “No, no, I haven’t. How is he doing? Can I visit him?”

Mason could feel ice spreading through his stomach, catching at his ribcage where his heart pounded against the bars to be released. How could any of them explain what happened?

“Not right now,” Melissa said. “Eat your greens.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Corey stabbed into his plate as Melissa set up his IV. “I guess he found somebody cooler at Sinema. Serves him right.”

“Um, he seemed a little off,” Liam said, ignoring Mason’s look. “Eyes dilating, that kind of thing. Have you had any weird nightmares?”

“No, but you saw him?” Corey completely forgot his food. “You were at Sinema?”

“Yes we were,” Mason said through his teeth.

“For like an hour,” Liam said.

“Oh… and you’re his…?” Corey indicated Liam.

“Co-pilot,” Liam said.

“Friend,” Mason corrected. He was starting to panic. “Well, clearly you’re fine, so we’ll just go.”

“Wait, did you see Lucas with anyone? I can show you a picture of him if I had my phone.”

“Your phone’s in your locker,” Melissa said.

“He’s kind of tall, brown skin, shaved head, his jawline is…” Corey made a motion around his head with his working hand, then pointed at Mason’s. “Kind of like yours.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I think it means you’ve found your hot flight attendant,” Liam muttered.

“Yeah, yeah that might have been him.” Mason shot daggers at Liam, who only shrugged, and Corey narrowed his eyes.

“Why do you keep looking at each other like that?” He adjusted his posture, trying to sit up, but Melissa pushed his shoulder back down.

“Hey, you haven’t finished your broccoli.”

Corey stuffed a whole forkful into his mouth and talked through it. “Wush he with shumeone? Just tell me.”

“We danced,” Mason said. “I didn’t know he was… taken.”

Corey swallowed with some effort. “Just dancing?” It was a challenge. Corey stared at Mason, his gaze unreadable.

“And we kissed.” Mason could feel the ghost of a touch on his hips again, and he pressed his lips together. “That was right before he got really sick.” Stingers poking out of his skin, eyes black as ink all over, hissing like an incubus unleashed, if that was sickness.

Corey laid his head back and shut his eyes. “I can’t believe this… he wanted to take things slow, so what did I do wrong?”

“We should go,” Mason said, but Liam caught his arm.

“Not until we know,” he said. He nodded once, and Mason pulled out his phone.

“Maybe we’re talking about the wrong guy,” he said to Corey. “I know at least three Lucases.”

“Yeah, maybe you made out with someone else’s boyfriend,” Corey muttered.

Mason pulled up the picture he’d found of Lucas on his Instagram and held it out. “Is this him?”

Corey opened his eyes, and the hazel was gone, washed out by the blaring white where his pupils should be. Mason sucked in a deep breath and felt Liam tense up beside him. Corey sighed and closed his eyes again. “Yep. That’s him.”

“I’m really sorry, Corey,” Mason tried. “I didn’t know.”

“Whatever. Just go.”

It felt like a curse, this ghost feeling on his lips, and Mason found himself stalling halfway to the door. Still, the Kiss of Death lingered in his mind, the echo of trashy EDM and watered down vodka shots shadowing it, and he knew he couldn’t leave it at this. Corey was a chimera; Corey had someone—unlike Mason—and now he was gone, taken by the hands that would soon take him. Only another echo gave Mason the courage; Scott’s words in Liam’s voice, now playing on repeat in his head: _save him_.

“Add me to your visitation list,” Mason said. Corey looked at him, completely bewildered. “J-just do it.”

“Why?”

“I want to see you.”

Silence followed, tense and hot as solar wind between them, with Melissa and Liam as dull stars in the farthest points of the constellation. Corey didn’t look away from him, but his lips parted with a quiet sigh. “Okay.” Melissa asked him if he wanted her to bring his visitors sheet when he woke up, and he nodded, still looking at Mason. Mason turned to leave, but Corey called out his name.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said in a sleepy voice. Then he rolled back his head and closed his eyes, and Melissa waved them out.

The lights in the hall were still flickering, but the hospital staff didn’t seem as frantic. Liam took a deep breath and cocked his head.

“I think Malia’s here,” he said. “Want to stick around?”

Mason shook his head. “I feel sick, Liam.”

“We’re in the hospital, what better place to be to feel sick?”

Mason leaned against the opposite wall and crossed his arms. “We watched Lucas die. I didn’t even know his name at first, and now he’s dead, and I don’t know why I can’t get it out of my head.”

Liam grew serious and joined him. “Okay… you don’t just get numb to it. I used to be scared.” Liam raised an eyebrow at him. “And I still am.” He pushed off the wall. “Want to play _Mortal Kombat_ at my place?”

Anything for a distraction, to get as far from the source of his guilt as possible. Did it make him a hypocrite if he wanted to see Corey again? They couldn’t hide Lucas’ death forever. “Sounds like a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :) I wrote this because I heard that Corey will be a recurring character and possible love interest for Mason. Breaks my shipper heart because I’m Brason trash, but since Corey is an enigma, I get to take creative license with his personality until he pops up again in episode 7. Um, this might be three chapters long, and I’ll try to prevent as much canon-divergence as possible. Comment if you liked it!
> 
> EDIT: Since the new episode came out, I'm just diverging completely from canon at this point.


	2. Toxin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corey's recovery makes keeping secrets much harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote chapter one before Corey and Mason ever appeared onscreen together, so expect canon divergence.

Three times, Mason stopped by the hospital.

The first, he went to see Stiles with Mason and Lydia; his jeep had flipped over, and the “inner circle” were being sparse with the details. He looked at the number-3 panel in the elevator with a weighty sigh and pretended not to notice Liam’s sad smile at him.

The second visit, he grew a pair. Mason marched into the elevator, squared his shoulders, and jabbed “3” with the might of a man on a mission. A little girl in a wheelchair then screeched “Wait, hold the elevator!” and he mashed “Open Doors” as fast as he could while she wheeled down the hallway, his anxiety back in full power. The ride up was torture, even if it was only two floors, and the little girl was fascinated by Mason.

“Why do you have flowers?” she asked. “Are they for your mom?”

“No, they’re not.”

“I came to visit my mom. She broke her foot and promised I could paint on her cast.” The girl showed him her art kit. “But I should have brought flowers, too. My mom loves lilies.”

“I think she might like the paint, more,” Mason said with a smile. The doors opened on the second floor, and Mason made his way to 313. But all his anxiety was for nothing; Corey was fast asleep, and his morning nurse set the flowers on his bedside table and told him to come again tomorrow.

The third visit, Mason was sure he had a death wish. He’d taken a cue from Mariana—the talented little girl in the wheelchair, he’d remembered to ask her name—and brought what he hoped would brighten Corey’s room. When he signed in his name on the visitors list, he couldn’t help but notice Corey’s lack of visitors outside of himself. He smiled at the nurse as usual and hurried to 313, shifting the package tucked under his arm.

The room was always quiet, curtains pulled close so only a sliver of light slipped through. Corey was turned on his right side, his left arm sticking out awkwardly, and a blanket half-concealed his face. Mason noted the flowers beside him; they’d already started to wilt, the soft blue petals turned pale and limp. Again, he felt that ghost sensation of something pulling at him, a nagging feeling that maybe he was cursed; everything he touched would die.

But that was stupid. He was the only human out of all his friends—except Stiles, who had told him quite bluntly that they were not friends.

Mason unwrapped his package, a globe of stained glass, and set it on the nightstand beside the flowers.

“That’s beautiful.”

Mason jerked his head to the side, almost knocking over the flowers. Corey looked at him with one eye open, the other covered by his blanket. “Did you bring me those flowers, too?”

Mason nodded, trying for casual. “Yeah, thought you might need to freshen the place up.”

“Nah, you brought them because you like me, don’t you?” Corey’s eye gleamed with mischief, and Mason pressed his lips together. “I’m just messing with you.”

“Yeah, you have a boyfriend anyway.”

“That didn’t stop you before.” Corey chuckled when Mason looked down at his shoes. “I’m still messing with you, really.” He tried to turn over and grimaced when he moved his arm. “Thank you for visiting me.”

“It’s no problem.”

“You’re… kind of the only one.” Corey stared at the floor between them. “My grandmother is supposed to be coming in, today.”

“She takes care of you?”

“Yeah.” Corey pinched at his blanket, and Mason knew he was rolling an unspoken name around in his head. It made the cold pit in his stomach colder, and the still air harder to breathe. Corey was the one who got stung, but Mason felt like the poison was in himself.

“Corey—how’s your arm?”

“It’s been really itchy,” Corey said. “No pain, though.” As if on cue, the door opened, and Melissa stepped in with her clipboard.

“Alright, Corey—Mason, what are you doing here?”

“I put him on my visitors list,” Corey said, grinning wide, though Melissa probably meant what was Mason doing here _during school hours_. He pointed with his good hand at the nightstand. “Look, he brought me flowers!”

“That’s really sweet, Mason,” she gave him a quick wink while Corey wasn’t looking. “Hey, can we talk outside? I’ve been meaning to give you a copy of your records.”

Mason cocked his head, confused. “Sure…” Once outside, Melissa checked the hallway to make sure no one close enough to hear.

“We have a tiny problem,” she said. “All the pain from the poison, the burning, it just went away yesterday. I’ve had to change his bandages, so I hid it from him the first couple times, but…”

“But?”

“Someone needs to break it to him that this isn’t a normal recovery.”

Mason gritted his teeth. “Maybe I should call Liam.”

“His stepdad is on shift right now, I don’t want him asking questions.”

“Okay, just give us a little more time.”

“This will be the first time he’s awake while I changed him. You’re out of time.”

“Alright… I’ll wing it.”

Melissa nodded and headed back inside. Corey held the glass ball up into the light, one eye closed, the other reflecting the hundreds of colors it held. Melissa worked on his arm and unraveled the bandages. Where once was a wound so horrific, it made Mason nauseous, was flawless, freckled skin, not even a hint of a scar. If the eyes weren’t enough of a sign, this left no doubt.

“What…?” Corey looked down at his arm. “It’s gone.”

“Looks like you’ve made a miraculous recovery,” Mason said with as much zeal as he could muster. He took a seat by the bed as Melissa opened her kit.

“Ms. McCall,” Corey’s voice was shaky, and he looked to her. His eyes were wide and he was breathing shallow.

“Melissa,” she corrected, taking Corey’s arm and wiping it with a sanitation cloth.

“How is this possible?” Corey looked to Mason, now, but Mason wouldn’t hold his gaze. “Do you know something? What’s going on?”

“Corey, it’s alright.” Melissa placed her fingers inside his wrist. “Everything is level, your wound is gone… and maybe we can’t explain it, but you’re fine.”

Corey laid his head back against his pillow and closed his eyes. Mason gave Melissa his most apologetic smile and shrugged.

“Nothing makes sense anymore,” Corey muttered. He looked at Mason. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? Not dying?” Mason’s stomach fluttered when Corey smiled back at him.

“Alright, Dr. Bernhart will want to be here when your grandmother arrives, and she can sign your release forms, okay?” Melissa tucked her pen into her hair. “Want me to bring you anything?”

“Um, just my phone, if you can,” Corey said. The very corners of Melissa’s eyes narrowed, so slight it was near unnoticeable, and she smiled and nodded.

“No problem, I’ll bring it from your locker before your lunch.”

“Thank you.” Melissa left, and Corey grinned at Mason. “Maybe now I can visit you.”

“Ha, maybe.” If Corey kept this up, Mason might just grab his face and kiss him.

“We can celebrate! Maybe go to Sinema?”

Whatever jitters remained in Mason’s stomach disappeared, replaced by the ice, again. “I don’t think your boyfriend would like that.”

“I think it’s a great idea; maybe then I’d actually see him.” Corey stretched and examined his arm again. A tiny frown appeared on his face, but he didn’t mention it. “Maybe then I’d get some answers.”

“Corey—”

“Did you enjoy it?”

Mason frowned. “Enjoy what?”

“The kiss. Was it nice? Was he good?”

“Ahhh, hmm,” Mason nodded, then shook his head, then kind of tilted it to the side. “I don’t exactly have much to go on… considering that was my first one.” Corey grew still. “And my only one.”

“Seriously? No way.” Corey sat up and grabbed Mason’s hand. “How could you be this cute and just now have your first kiss?”

“Ha,” Mason’s neck and face went hot. “I’m hardly—um, thanks.”

“Mason?”

“Yeah?”

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?” But he did, shutting out the image of Corey’s mouth puckering into a smirk, and then he felt heat close to his face, a hand sliding up his chest to his shoulder, and then a kiss, sweet, soft, and slow. Mason swayed when Corey pulled away.

“Alright, how’s that compare?” Corey asked. His smile was delicate; he seemed almost afraid.

“That was…” Cotton-candy to Lucas’ Red Hots, sugar to spice, and it had left Mason’s lips tingling and his heart racing. He cleared his throat. “That was good.”

Corey made a nervous laugh. “Just good?” His cheeks and ears were pink; no one had ever had that reaction from Mason, not Brett, not Lucas, not anyone.

“I might need another sample before I conclude my results,” Mason said in his best, most clichéd, doctor’s impression.

“No problem,” Corey breathed, pulling him in again and kissing him with renewed vigor. Mason wasn’t sure where to put his hands, grabbing at anything and catching Corey’s side and his newly healed arm. Deeper and deeper they went, and Mason realized he wasn’t the toxic one after all. Corey had taken a bite out of him and let his venom simmer, and with every minute break for air between touches, Mason burned up a little bit more.

 

\-----------

 

Mason sat outside in the courtyard an hour later, figuring it was better to wait until fifth period ended before sneaking back inside. He had his head buried in his textbook when the bell rang, shaking it from the odd fusion of Biology notes and the butterflies fluttering around with “Corey” written on their wings. Before he could get up, he heard Liam shout his name; Beacon Hills’ shortest werewolf raced down the lawn between the auditorium and the courtyard toward him.

“Hey, I’ve been texting you,” Liam said when he reached him.

“My phone died on the way back to school, what’s going on?”

“It’s Corey.” Mason held his breath. “Scott’s mom just called him, she said he found out about Lucas.”

“How did he find out?”

“I don’t know, but he ran out of the hospital. Scott wants to look for him.”

“Oh my god.” Mason slammed his book shut. “Crap.”

“Where would he go?”

“On a Friday? Only one place to go.” Mason threw on his backpack. “Sinema.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone hasn’t read my new author’s note at the end of the first chapter, I decided to just go complete canon divergence. That’s what I get for writing a chaptered fic of a pairing before they even appeared onscreen together in canon. BUT, I feel obligated to finish and make this (somewhat) good because apparently this is the only fic for this pairing on the whole site. Comment if you liked it!


	3. Horrible Accidents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth has made a monster of Corey, and Mason loses him to the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be a 3-chapter fic, but chapter 3 was way too long. I split it into two and readjusted the chapters accordingly.

Rain pounded the rooftops, ringing off the tin and iron plates of Beacon Hills’ shadier warehouses, almost drowning out the throbbing bass of Europop leaking out from Sinema’s doors. Scott led the charge to the back entrance, leaving Stiles and Malia in the car; Mason let Liam stand between him and Scott, any barrier to keep Scott from guessing his mood by scent. He was a wreck, every thought shifting one way, then another as the doors finally opened and out stepped Hayden.

“Twice in one week?” Hayden looked down the line of them. “You sure Mason’s the only one who likes dicks around here?”

“Hayden, this is serious,” said Liam.

Scott stepped forward. “We need to find Corey, fast. Has he come here?”

“Corey? What’s he look like?”

“He’s in your Geometry class,” Mason said. “Pretty eyes, really nice eyebrows.”

“That’s like half the guys in here, but yeah, I know him.”

“Well? Is he here?” Scott glanced past her into the club. Flickers of red strobe lights painted lines over his leather jacket, alpha red against darkness. Mason stepped closer to Liam, who glanced at him, probably sensing his anxiety.

“He was, but he might have left while I was on break.”

“Can we check?”

Hayden rolled her eyes. “Just—just don’t cause any trouble, I really need this job.”

“Forget this place, I can find you another job that pays better and treats you better,” Liam said. Hayden glared at him, but her lips were frozen in a flat line, like she was bracing herself. She held the door wider and stood aside. “Go find your friend.” They filed inside, Liam pausing to nod his head at Hayden.

The club had its usual crowd, with a few new people who eyed them as they walked around its perimeter. _The Evil Dead_ was playing on screens around the room; the rude bartender gave them shifty stares as they interrogated a couple patrons. Mason had the feeling he’d throw them out if things got too wild.

“I don’t think he’s here,” Liam shouted to Mason over the music. “I can’t smell him.”

“There are a lot of people in here, and you’ve barely smelled him,” Mason said.

“Still, I don’t think he stuck around here.”

They separated, Mason toward the seats in the back, Liam toward the bar.

Mason leaned against an extension truss below one of the movie projectors and pressed his fingers to his temples. The music resonated in his bones, and even if the movie was different, he still felt like a bumbling survivor in _Night of the Living_ Dead, waiting for a pretty boy with eyes like Hades to pull him under.

“You alright?”

Mason opened his eyes. Brett leaned over him, a drink in one hand. “Brett? What’re you doing here?”

“Trying to get over an ex. I didn’t think you liked this club after last time.”

“I do—I mean I don’t.” Mason shook his head. “I’m looking for someone.”

“Dude, everyone’s looking for someone.”

“No, I mean Corey. He ran away from the hospital, and Hayden said she saw him here.”

“Corey… Lucas’ boy—” Bret didn’t finish, seeing the wince on Mason’s face. “You like him?”

“I really really do, and I’m scared he’s going to do something dangerous.”

“Well, shit.” Brett leaned against the truss beside him. “I’m finally single and you’re hooked on someone else.” Brett ran a hand through his hair. “I saw Corey earlier, downing shots. He left this, though.” Brett handed him a dried up lily petal. “It was at the bottom of his glass. Not gonna lie, I thought it was wolfsbane for a second and I freaked out.”

“Thanks, Brett, really,” said Mason. He took the petal and rubbed his thumb over, trying to ease his anxiety. “You’re a good friend.”

“Don’t remind me.” Brett looked him up and down, then drifted toward a couple dancing in front of a screen until his shadow blended into the demons from the movie.

It didn’t take Mason long to find Liam; they ran into each other by the bar, earning a shout from the bartender. Liam was shaking, and he grabbed Mason’s shoulder.

“Scott found him first,” he whispered in his ear.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, Scott is acting… different.” Liam ran off with Mason in tow. 

Outside, the rain was coming down in buckets, and thunder rocked the night sky. Mason skidded to a stop in a puddle behind the warehouse, Liam beside him. “Sinema” reflected back at him through the puddle in flashing red, and at first, Mason couldn’t see anything but the neon glow. Then lightning cracked the sky, illuminating Corey huddled beside an A/C generator; Scott stood over him, one hand extended.

“I’m not here to hurt you, Corey,” Scott was saying; it was hard to believe with his eyes aglow.

“Did you say that to Lucas before you slaughtered him?” Corey’s words were slurred, and he didn’t look like he could put up much of a fight. The bags under his eyes were black as the night above, and his hands were shaking.

“The Dread Doctors killed Lucas,” Scott said. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t save him.”

Corey looked up, and Mason realized raindrops weren’t all that slid down the slopes of his face. “Dread Doctors?”

“They’re the reason your arm healed. I know it’s a lot to take in, but we can explain everything if you give us time.”

“What’s the point?” Corey stared off at nothing, and Mason advanced with caution.

“Give me your jacket,” he said to Scott.

“Why?”

“Scott, please.” Scott shrugged off his jacket and handed it to Mason, who approached Corey with it clutched in his hands.

“Corey, I’m here,” Mason said. Corey blinked up at him, and even without super senses like the others, Mason could almost taste the alcohol on him. He looked back at Liam. “I think he’s wasted.”

“We can’t get drunk,” Scott said. “We flush out the alcohol before it has any effect.”

“Well, he is clearly shit-faced,” Mason said.

Liam shrugged. “Maybe chimera are different.”

“Chimera?” Corey rubbed his eyes. “None of this makes sense.”

Mason crouched and laid the jacket over him like a blanket. “I know, I’m new to this stuff, too.”

“You knew about Lucas?” Corey glared up at him.

“Yes, sort of, well no.” Mason took Corey’s hand. “When we met at Sinema, I didn’t know he was—not human. Then he attacked me.”

Corey’s eyes widened, revealing the deep terror in them. “No way, Lucas wouldn’t do that. Lucas is sweet, and he’s quiet, why would he…” Corey rubbed his eyes again with one hand. “You’re lying, you’re all lying to me.”

“We’re not lying,” Scott said.

“You lied before.” Corey snatched his hand away from Mason’s. “All that time you were with me, you couldn’t tell me my boyfriend was dead? I guess that bit didn’t really matter, right? As long, as long as you could get what you wanted.”

“What? All I ever wanted was to help you, Corey.”

“Shut up, shut up.” Corey’s eyes shut as he sobbed. “How am I going to explain this to my grandma?” He held out one hand to Mason, and with a flick of his wrist, blunt, translucent claws sprouted from his fingers.

“We can help with that,” Mason said. “Scott’s mom knows.”

“The nurse who always smells nice?”

“Yes, yes, and Lydia’s mom kind of knows, you remember Lydia? And Stiles’ dad. It’d be easier for them to talk to your grandma, and she doesn’t even have to know at first. Give it time.”

“You want me to lie to my grandma, too?” Corey clenched his claws into a fist. “She’s all I’ve got.”

“You’ve got me, too,” Mason said. “You’ve got all of us.” He pulled the lily petal from his pocket, opened Corey’s hand finger by finger, and placed the petal in his palm. Artificial life filled it with each raindrop, and the crystal claws shrank back into his skin, one by one, until all that was left was wet, warm, and human.

“Why are you always here?” Corey looked at Mason again. “I mean—you’re just there, and there, how did this happen?”

“Fate?” Mason rubbed his thumb over Corey’s knuckles. “Or just a bunch of accidents, I don’t know.”

“Horrible horrible accidents,” Corey slurred out. He looked down at his palm again, where the lily floated in a puddle in his hand. He was shuddering, and his cheeks had a nasty green tinge to them. “I saw him. In the morgue, they had his body laid out on the table.” He hiccupped. “The stingers on his arms… they looked like something trying to escape his skin, and the wound, oh god the wound.” Corey jumped to his feet, letting the jacket fall to the ground. Mason backed away as Corey swayed, one hand clenching the petal and the other reaching for the wall for balance.

“Corey?” Scott called out.

Corey shook his head, his eyes flashing in a rainbow of colors, and he vomited against the wall, great spurts of greasy bile and the shimmer of tarnished mercury, shaking with each heave. Every time Mason moved forward, thinking he was finished, Corey heaved again, coughing near the end. He looked to the others for help, but Scott and Liam were covering their noses with their shirts, eyes watering. For once, Mason was glad he was just human.

“I’m sorry,” Corey said, turning to look at him. His eyes were still flashing, just as neon as the signs around them, and his hand seemed to be fading into the same iron gray as the wall behind him. It spread up his arm, turning red like the painted “NO PARKING” sign near his waist, and like watching a cloud disperse, Corey seemed to vanish right in front of them, leaving only those eyes behind.

“Corey? Corey!” Mason stumbled forward, but the eyes disappeared, too. He thought he heard one last “sorry” over the sizzle of rain, then the sound of footsteps and splashing water, and he knew Corey was gone. Mason turned on Scott and Liam. “We need to find him! Track him or something.”

“Are you kidding? I couldn’t smell if I wanted to,” Scott said beneath his shirt. Liam was coughing beside him, and he held out Scott’s ruined jacket.

“How did he do that? Disappear?” Liam asked.

“The Dread Doctors,” Mason said. “He’s like a chameleon.” How apt; Corey could just blend in by taking what the world gave him, letting his environment stripe him in grief and isolation. He looked up when Scott placed a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll find him, again. Give him time. He needs to sober up.” The look in his eyes was so optimistic, Mason just nodded and tried for a smile. After all, it was easier to be eager than afraid.

\-----------

The storm dissipated around midnight, leaving little flickers of lightning here and there, enough to light up Mason’s whole room. He sat against his headboard, pillow clutched to his chest, and tried to will himself to feel tired. So far, he’d just had two frustrating hours of staring at the opposite wall. He knew this was his fault, in some small way. He could’ve just told Corey everything, but he’d trusted Liam and Scott. They were the experts, right? But what a cost, to feel this guilt again, gnawing at him from the inside out. Maybe he could’ve told Corey, maybe he was right to stick with the plan and wait, but at the very least, he could’ve not kissed him. He could’ve been responsible and not kept visiting him, probably stopped all communication with him after that first day.

He knew that was bullshit.

He’d never been more drawn to someone, something beyond physical attraction and the thrill of club lights. Corey pulled at him in ways that left him somehow untangled instead of knotted; he could no more have stayed away than if Lucas had spit poison down his threat, and the air Corey breathed was his only antidote. Though, he had to keep asking himself if he only felt so strongly about Corey because he was haunted by Lucas, if one was just to cancel out the other. Did that make it real? With the image of Corey crying in the rain now pounding his skull more than the image of Lucas’ abyss-eyes, was any of it worth it?

A shadow pounded against his window. Mason jumped, startled, and grabbed the bat by his bed. The shadow gripped the edges of the window, and when lightning flashed, Mason could see Corey looking back at him.

“Mason,” he said through the glass. “Please let me in.”

Mason dropped the bat and ran to the window. Shoving it open brought the chill, humid air inside, and Corey stumbled in. His arms wrapped around Mason for support, and surprisingly, he smelled like lemon and soap. Mason held Corey up as he brought his legs over the windowsill, but even then, Corey didn’t let go.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Corey said. “I don’t want Grams to see me like this.”

“You cleaned up. Where’d you go?”

“Back to Sinema.” Corey reached out for Mason’s desk, steadying himself. “Hayden helped me get all clean and stuff. She’s really nice.” He smacked his lips and pulled back from Mason, one hand still on his waist. “You’re really nice.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” said Mason. “Do you want me to get you anything?”

“No, no…” Corey sighed like he hadn’t slept in years. “I just really need to sleep.”

Mason nodded. “No problem. Let me set up.” He hurried to his bed, missing Corey’s fingertips on his hips already, and pulled back the covers.

“Sharing a bed?” Corey asked. He made a weak smile.

“I don’t mind sleeping on the floor, you need it more than I do.”

“Don’t.” Corey took his hand, stopping him from piling up pillows. “I can sleep on the floor.”

“It’s fine, I’ve done it plenty of times.”

“You’re always there.” Corey swallowed hard and looked Mason in the eyes. “Stop making me fall in love with you.” Mason froze, all neurons firing in overdrive in his head as he processed Corey’s words. Corey didn’t wait for him to figure it out, though. He grabbed the extra blanket from Mason’s hands and made it into a pillow, then he shrugged off his soaked shirt and tossed it to the floor near the window, giving Mason an unmarred view of the freckles on his back and shoulders. Mason forced himself to change his thought pattern, searching for any topic.

“How’d you know where I live?”

Corey shrugged. “I just followed it.”

“It?”

“Something in the air, like a haze, but I could smell it, too.” Corey kicked off his shoes and stuffed his wet socks into them, and, at least, unclasped his belt. Mason froze at the sight of his now exposed happy trail, barely taking in Corey’s nimble fingers fumbling with the belt until he’d whipped it off and kicked off his chinos, too. Left in just his wet, blue boxer-briefs—they hugged his body, leaving little to the imagination—Corey just kind of looked down at himself and shrugged sadly, still swaying. Mason usually slept in an undershirt and his boxers, even when Liam slept over, but he felt an unusual blend of overdressed and far too exposed, draping one of the extra pillows in front of him to hide his growing boner. Corey looked up at him all of a sudden, eyes flashing like rainbows.

“You smell really good,” he said.

“Probably the, uh, Airwick over…” Mason pointed off to the corner behind him. “Over there somewhere.”

“Ah…” Corey nodded, nostrils flaring as he inhaled again, and his ears flushed pink. “I didn’t think they’d have something like that. It’s really… earthy.” He cleared his throat, eyes wandering to the pillow over Mason’s crotch and down to his bare feet, where he curled up his toes every time he set his weight from one foot to another. Mason thought he might pass out, so in one swift move, he rolled over the side of his bed and landed on his stomach, tossing the pillow over his head to muffle a groan as he accidentally rubbed against his mattress.

“Well, good night, fugitive,” Mason said in the most cheery voice he could muster. Corey didn’t say anything back, but Mason lifted his head when he heard a thump on his bedside table. The glass ball he’d given Corey now sat by his PS4 controller. Corey gripped the side of the bed and lowered himself to the floor, and he was asleep the moment his head hit the blanket.

“You want another blanket?” Mason asked. He peeked down at him and almost choked; Corey was definitely knocked out, but another part of him was wide awake, poking through the slip in his underwear with unapologetic pride, and he could see why. Corey was _gifted_ , and thick—Mason forced himself to lie back down. He couldn’t perve on him like that, it was wrong, so wrong. Mason peeked over the side again, almost moaning at the thought of what it might feel like in his hands.

Yep, definitely wrong.

Mason sat up and pulled one of the extra quilts at the end of his bed, and with as much grace as he could muster—turning his eyes away from where Corey was throbbing, actually _throbbing_ with a pulse—laid it over Corey, covering him, then returned to bed. He flipped onto his back, if only to fight the straining in his boxers, and covered his eyes with one arm folded over his head. Then he counted up to fifty in French, letting each number tick by until he was in his right mind once more. Before he reached a hundred, he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note, it's really important to me to write the sexual tension bit (the things some of us can't help but notice and be affected by) as natural as possible, but still make Mason the gentleman (or at least he tries). The same goes for Corey, but in a different way. I've just read a lot of fics where lines of consent are crossed when it comes to the sexy bits, and I felt a responsibility to keep things*right.*


	4. Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping just inches apart, with the ghost of a hungry-eyed boy between them, and the guilt of a kiss and bloodshed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to change the rating on this fic. That should tell you everything you need to know.

It was the first night in a week Mason hadn’t been plagued by nightmares. He didn’t remember any of his dreams, only blissful darkness, and he awoke early enough to catch the first rays of sunrise coming through his window. He’d turned over onto his side in the night, one arm hanging over the bed. Corey, likewise, lay on his side facing him, one hand stretched out above his head where his fingers curled into Mason’s. His hand felt warm as the sunrise, and Mason felt a different kind of swelling than from last night’s: starting somewhere deep in his ribcage, like warm honey, and ending behind his teeth as he couldn’t help but smile.

Then he remembered: _boundaries_.

He uncurled their fingers, letting Corey’s drop softly to his makeshift pillow, and he climbed out of bed as quietly as he could, ignoring Corey’s soft snores and the sunlight dappled against his exposed chest. Boundaries, no matter what.

Mason found the kitchen empty downstairs, though a bowl of half-eaten Mini Wheats sat on the table. He’d measured out coffee grinds when his mother walked in, fully dressed in work attire.

“You’re up early for a Saturday,” she said, kissing him on the cheek.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“You’d think you would after staying out so late.” She wagged a finger at him. “What did I say about being out after ten?”

“To call you if anything happens.”

“ _Now_ you remember.” Sonya moved to the sink and rinsed out her bowl. “God forbid you disappear, too, like those kids at your school.”

“I’ll be more careful, Mom.”

“You’d better, you’re almost a man, now.” She leaned against the counter. “Speaking of which…” Mason already knew from her tone. His ears heated up in record time. “I don’t like having strangers in my house, I want to at least meet someone if they’re sleeping down the hall from me.”

“I’m sorry, it was kind of last minute. He’s just a friend.”

“Mmm hmm.” Sonya took a sip of her orange juice and raised an eyebrow. “At least I don’t have to worry about pregnancy scares from you.”

“Mama!”

“Just get tested.”

“Oh my god…”

“I will drive you to the clinic myself, I swear, if it’s not animal attacks in this town, it’s chlamydia.” Now thoroughly embarrassed, Mason pushed his forehead against the cup cabinets and waited for his mom to grab her bag off the table. “I’m heading out to work, I hope your _friend_ isn’t like Liam. If I find my anything in this house broken or smashed, animal attacks will be the last thing you’ll be afraid of.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“There are eggs in the fridge, text me if you go out,” Sonya made her way out of the kitchen, calling out to him from the front hall. “Lock up the house if you leave, don’t forget your keys.”

“I won’t.” The moment she closed the front door, Mason dropped his face into his hands and groaned like the living dead. If only to distract himself, he threw bread into the toaster and pulled out a pan and several eggs. By the time he heard footsteps coming down the stairs, he had two platefuls of scrambled eggs ready and was buttering half the toast. He turned to his guest, and his “Good morning” died on his tongue. Corey had thrown on a pair of shorts Mason had left for him, but was otherwise bare, and if night-Corey was a sight, day-Corey was a wonder. He stood somewhat awkwardly by the doorway and nodded his head at Mason.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Hey, slept good?” Mason set a glass of water down on the table and an Aspirin. Corey took a few uneasy steps toward a chair and plopped down, cringing, and he rolled the Aspirin around in his hand.

“Yeah.” He took it and gulped down the water. “I woke up about an hour ago. Thinking about a lot of things.”

Mason froze and stared down at the slice of toast in his hand, glad that his back was to Corey. If he’d been awake that long, did he remember them holding hands? Mason slapped extra butter onto the slice. As if it mattered; they’d already kissed. Still, he was trying to be better, to be like the others.

“What were you thinking about?” Mason asked.

“That things are going to be different now. I’m different.” Corey smacked his lips and rolled the edge of the glass against the table. “And I never want to drink ever again.”

Mason laughed a little. “Do you want coffee?”

“Sure.”

“How do you like yours?” Mason spared a glance at him, hoping Corey wasn’t at Liam’s level and could sense what he was feeling.

Corey looked up at him, gaze shimmering down then back up again. “Black.” Mason hurried to make him a cup, his whole face hot. He couldn’t do this, especially not after last night, and now that Corey was sober…

“Mason.” Corey’s voice was soft, but Mason only gave the smallest sign he was listening, focusing instead on making a plate of eggs and toast to go with the coffee. When he turned to Corey, the boy was standing right behind him; there was no smile, now, no sly look in his eyes. Mason avoided his gaze and set the food and coffee on the table.

“Bon appetit,” he muttered, ignoring the tingling along the back of his neck.

“Mason,” Corey said again. He rested one hand on Mason’s waist, gentle and airy. A ghost touch. Mason whipped away and faced him.

“Don’t,” Mason said. “I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about Lucas, and I shouldn’t have kept things from you—”

“You told me about Lucas, I was okay, really.”

“But the other stuff, Lucas being a—” Mason waved his hands as he tried to come up with a name for it. “A manticore?”

“Mason, I get it. This isn’t an easy thing to explain.” Corey rubbed his hands together. “I’ve been… feeling things the past couple days that I couldn’t explain, either. And not just my body, or the things I can hear and smell. I mean you, too.”

“I thought you’d hate me.”

“I hate what’s happening to me. The liquor just made that part confusing.” Corey fiddled with the belt loops in his shorts, and Mason recognized that glance he made to the right, the flutter of his eyelashes. “I can sense all kinds of things, really. Like… what you’re feeling. Towards me.”

“Oh…” Mason nodded stiffly. “Feelings like…?”

“It’s like catching someone mumbling, but I’m not hearing it, I’m smelling it. That make sense?”

“No.”

“Well I could kind of… smell you mumbling, and it sounded like you, uh…” Corey smiled a little. “I know when you’re… aroused.” Mason was dying, this was definitely death, if Saint Jude could come for him now, he’d gladly flee into her arms and leave behind his body to curl up in embarrassment.

“I wasn’t trying to be a perve—”

Corey shook his head. “It’s not fair I can figure these things out and you can’t.”

“Perks of being whatever you are.”

“Whatever I am…” Corey looked him straight in the eye again and nodded. “It’s really not fair, so consider me an open book. Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you.”

“I’m not sure it’ll be the same.”

“Oh yeah?” Corey stepped closer. “Last night, I wanted to shove you back on that bed and grind you right through the mattress.”

_Fuck_. Mason felt hot and cold down his chest and knew his sweatpants wouldn’t hide a thing. “You even remember last night all that well?”

Corey inhaled sharply. “There’s that smell, I knew it.” He was close enough now that Mason could see the hazel of his eyes, every eyelash, the flare of his pupils dilating. “Can you guess what I want to do with you right now?” Corey brushed his lips up Mason’s neck, leaving a trail of kisses soft as the tickle of moth wings, until his mouth neared his ear, and he whispered dark desires. Mason swore and took Corey’s hand, tugging him behind him as he ran for the stairs. Corey had a dazed grin plastered on his face as Mason led him back to his room, and he even giggled at Mason popped the button on his shorts and unzipped them, only growing serious when Mason threw off his nightshirt.

“Whoa, you’ve been holding back,” Corey said. He ran a hand over Mason’s chest and right shoulder, mischief filling his eyes.

“And you? Or was all that about grinding me through my mattress just talk?” Corey pulled Mason’s hand into his pants, giving him his first feel of the swelling bulk underneath.

“That feel like talk to you?”

Mason squeezed, eliciting a moan from Corey so profane and raw, he almost came on the spot. “Yeah, yeah, I think we could have a conversation.” He pulled Corey close with his other arm and they kissed, mouths mashing and feet tangling together as Mason fell back onto the bed, pulling Corey down with him. After some struggle, he managed to free Corey’s dick from his shorts, all his focus shattering only when Corey reached for Mason’s, and next thing he knew, he was gripping them both in one hand as Corey braced his arms beside his head, his mouth working Mason’s jawline and neck as he pushed down onto him, sliding through his hands. He took a second to stick his fingers in his mouth, slicking them both up before grinding again, kissing Mason in a fury of flesh and heat—and _those moans_ , like an angel’s first sin. They rolled in a pretzel of limbs as Corey tired out, Mason popping up on top to take over. Mason was suddenly glad Corey couldn't heal as fast as the others, that each little bruise left by his sucking stood out star-bright against his pale collarbones, his throat, and by the time they both came, they were exhausted and covered in each other’s marks—rivers of white trickling through the marshes of mottled hickeys, flags of now-charted territory.

Mason traced a finger along the inside of Corey’s thigh, his head resting comfortably at his navel. He was weirdly proud and astonished of his work on him; every few seconds Corey huffed like he was still out of breath, and his heart fluttered with it. Corey twisted his fingers into Mason’s hair and kept smiling at the ceiling before biting his lips until it went away. Then a breath would pass and that smile broke out again, and Mason found himself smiling and nestling his face into Corey’s belly.

“You’re always there,” Corey muttered. Mason looked up at him, but Corey’s eyes were on the ceiling. “I want to be like that, for you. So you’ll know what it’s like to have that, to have someone always there.” He glanced down at him. “I mean, I know you have them, but…”

“I can’t sleep with them,” Mason laughed. Corey chuckled with him, belly shaking with quiet laughter.

“Yeah. You know what, though?” Corey readjusted himself on the blanket. “It inspires me. You inspire me. To be there.”

“I do?”

“Yeah. I never thanked you for all that.”

“Ha, I’m feeling thoroughly—” Mason kissed a freckle by his bellybutton—“and efficiently—” he ran his lips over his hip bones—“thanked.” Corey laughed, but a flush had already taken over his neck and face, and Mason could see him getting as excited as he was.

“Then are we…? Can I thank you every day?” asked Corey. Mason folded his arms over Corey’s stomach and rested his chin on them. “And be the only one thanking you?”

“Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?”

Corey grinned at him. “Yes.”

“Well I don’t just thank anybody.” They both laughed again. Mason looked down at where his fingers brushed light hairs along Corey’s ribcage. “In fact, I’ve… never thanked anyone… like this.”

“Neither have I.”

Mason felt his earlier butterflies flutter into a frenzy in his stomach, and he thought he’d break his face from smiling so hard. “I’m feeling pretty gracious right now, Corey.”

“Hell yes, me too.”

“I can tell; your gratitude is poking me in the chest.”

Corey moved out from under Mason and flipped him onto his back, pinning down his sides with his knees. “Well, allow me to thank you, properly.” Corey trailed his fingers up and down Mason’s sides, tickling him, and he placed a sweet kiss to his lips. Then his kisses went lower, then lower, and the tickling ran down his sides to his hips, then his thighs, and what Corey did with his mouth made Mason arch up from the mattress and see stars.

\-----------

 

Something seemed different at school, Monday. Inside of Mason’s bedroom, Dread Doctors didn’t exist; death was an abstract concept; cruelty only meant teasing out the high of desire. Then he walked into Beacon Hills High School, and the dread returned. Scott’s moping face, Liam’s deflated air, Stiles and Malia not talking, Lydia hardly there. But that felt inevitable now that he knew everything; what felt truly different, he didn’t recognize until lunch, when he spotted Corey’s bright face coming down the hall, and the gloom seemed to lift like a fog. When they took each other’s hands, sharing shy smiles from the newness of it and the memory of the things they’d done, Mason felt it spread through them. Scott nodded with a small smile at the sight of them and shared a knowing look with Kira, who blushed and covered her face with her hair. Liam gave him a thumbs up and grinned for the first time in weeks, whispering, "You smell like each other" to Mason with a cheeky laugh. Stiles and Malia edged closer together, and by the end of lunch, their hands were joined. Even Lydia had time to crack a joke about how fast things were going for them when she arrived after fourth period.

Something was different, but when Corey’s thumb massaged his palm and his pulse quickened, he knew it was a good change. No matter what happened, he wasn’t the same Mason who’d burst down the basement hall with an old bat in hand. He was changed, and he was all the more thankful for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was fun to write! Now to go cry about the travesty that was episode 9 to my ship Y_Y I hope you all liked it! It's funny, themes and parallels are so much easier to make in fanfics, wish I could do this with my original stories. Comment if you enjoyed!
> 
> P.S. "Morey" and "Cason" are taken, so I fully endorse "Corason" as a ship name (sounds like "mi corazon", or "my heart" in English).


End file.
